Rose of the World
by meggie-grace
Summary: Rose Weasley, daughter of Hermione and Ron, is going to school and experiences the ups and downs of adolescence. Epilogue-compliant. My first fanfiction. Rated T to be safe
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. JK Rowling owns Harry Potter and his universe.**

It was very early morning on the first day of September, and the small village slept peacefully in the hours before sunrise. On a quiet lane near the village green, a rather nondescript house stood amongst others of its ilk. Among other things, it was white, had a blue door, and rambling autumn roses climbed the whitewashed façade. It also had four bedrooms, one unused at that time. In the other three, four people were sleeping soundly. The large bedroom at the back of the house faced a vegetable garden, a rather scuffed lawn, and a pond next to a willow tree. In it slept two people, one with brown curly hair spread across a pillow and one with straighter red hair cut short. They were covered with an obviously handmade quilt. In the smaller bedroom beside the master bedroom slept the couple's son, a young boy whose red curls stuck to his face. And in the third bedroom, facing the road, a young woman slept. Well, perhaps woman was an overstatement. Red curls tumbled across the pillow, framing a small face scattered liberally with freckles, with long dark eyelashes, a small nose, and full lips. The girl slept beneath a quilt made by her paternal grandmother, and blue gingham curtains framed the two street-facing windows. On the floor, a mostly-full trunk sat open, revealing neatly folded clothes and stacked books. A calendar turned to the month of September was hung on the white wall, and September first was circled in red multiple times. As the sun filtered through the windows, the girl stirred and blinked twice, revealing chocolate brown eyes. Then she sat up straight.

Hermione Weasley, nee Granger, woke on the morning of September first to the complaints of a rather small girl spoken rather loudly in her ear. "Mama wake up we're going to be late and I can't find my robes they aren't anywhere did you put them in my trunk? Also I washed my hair but can you braid it for me Mama I want to look my best for school after all it is my first day and Mama I'm scared what if no one likes me Mama wake up!" Her mother sat up, rubbed her eyes tiredly, and motioned to her eleven-year-old daughter that she'd be there in a minute, just go down to the kitchen. Rose, dripping water from her bright hair onto her parent's bedroom floor, complied and padded from the room and down the stairs as Hermione avoided killing herself in the puddles of water and pulled on a dressing gown. As she did so, a blinking clock attracted her eyes. Five-forty-five? No wonder she was tired. All the same, remembering the importance of the occasion, she headed down to placate her worried daughter.

Six buttermilk pancakes with maple syrup, one glass of orange juice, and two French braids later, Rose Weasley rushed off to find the missing school robes, which were, as expected, clean and dry in a wicker basket after being dried on the line. The young girl was about to make herself sick with worry, and about to make her mother sick with her incessant questions – "Mama will people like me there? Will they? Mama what if I have no friends? Mama what if James and Albus don't talk to me? Mama what if I'm not in Gryffindor? What happens then?" – until Hermione longed for the peace and quiet that would come with Rose living at Hogwarts. At exactly ten-thirty, the Weasley family departed in an old muggle car borrowed from a neighbor for King's Cross Station, where Rose would leave on the Hogwarts Express. A nervous Rose in the back would chatter for five minutes straight, remain quiet for five, and then begin the dreaded cycle again. It could not be soon enough that the four arrived at Kings Cross, and with Rose's trunk safely loaded onto a cart, made their way to Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

Rose, scrubbed, tucked, and French braided to perfection, proudly wheeled her cart all by herself on the way to Platform Nine and Three Quarters while the rest of her family tagged behind. With the brainpower once famous in her mother, Rose went over lists in her head to keep nervousness at bay. Ballet flats? Check – black with tiny bows, they fit perfectly. She and her mother had bought them in Diagon Alley the week before. White knee socks? Check – bought with her mother, they covered her horribly scrawny legs, one of her many embarrassments. Black skirt? Check – Rose loved her swingy skirt that ended exactly three inches above the knee, and of course wore it on one of the most important days in her life. Navy pullover? Check – cotton and comfortable, Rose's pullover showcased her red hair beautifully as well as lending an inner light to her alabaster complexion. And last but not least, locket? Check – of course. Rose never went anywhere without the small, heart-shaped locket around her neck, tucked inside the collar of her pullover. Done with her appearance, Rose began going over lists of books she had read and the contents of her trunk until they came to a brick wall and stopped.

So did her mental inventory. This was it. As soon as she walked through this wall – inwardly she paused at how odd that sounded – she would be on her way to Hogwarts, the school where she would spend the greater part of the next seven years. Squaring her shoulders, Rose walked through the bricks and stumbled upon an awe-inspiring scene. Children ranging from age eleven to seventeen hugged their parents' goodbye and were boarding a large, scarlet train with the words "Hogwarts Express" lettered in gold on the side. Rose had never even been on a train before. _Standard Book of Spells, Grade One_, her panicked brain shot out. _One pewter cauldron, standard size 2_ – stop it, she told her brain firmly, and pasted a cheerful, excited smile on her face, her brown eyes twinkling. No one needed to know she was scared. Sighting familiar faces – Uncle Harry, Aunt Ginny, and her cousins, she walked over with her cart and trunk, her parents and brother following.

Albus was obviously nervous, and Rose felt a twinge of pride that she could conceal her fears behind a smile. James, two years her senior and excited to be going back was successfully tormenting his younger brother, who, truth be told, didn't need much more tormenting to become an absolute basket case. The scene made her smile, but as always, her older cousin scared her a bit and her brain went back into "calm down" mode, spitting off random information in carefully compiled lists. Rose, usually quite thankful for this quality, was rather annoyed that didn't allow her to take everything in. After all, this was a life-changing experience! Still, she supposed blocking out the entire scene was better than decompensating into a weeping mess on the floor. Smiling distractedly at her cousins, she scanned the crowd for faces she felt she should know.

Her father placed his hand on her navy-clad shoulder as they stared towards a young blond man and his equally blond father. "So that's little Scorpius," said Ron under his breath. "Make sure you beat him in every test Rosie. Thank God you inherited your mother's brains."

"Ron for heaven's sake," said Hermione, half stern, half amused. "Don't try to turn them against each other before they've even started school!"

"You're right, sorry," said Ron. But unable to help himself, he added "Don't get too friendly with him, though Rosie. Granddad Weasley would never forgive you if you married a pureblood." Rose neglected to assure him that she wouldn't. Just looking at the boy gave her shivers and she edged closer to her father. James noticed her discomfort and stepped between her and the boy, and she felt an immediate rush of affection towards him. Restraining her desire to wrap her arms around her cousin, she instead bid her parents and little brother goodbye and, with the help of a friendly prefect, loaded her trunk onto the train.

Rose crossed her legs at the ankles and looked out the window at the quickly passing scenery. In her lap sat two wrappers for her favorite snacks, Pumpkin Pasties, beside her was a bookmarked and well-read novel. Rose was inherently neat – those sharing the compartment with her, however, were not. The floor was littered with the wrappers of every conceivable type of candy, chocolate frogs being the most prevalent. The two who had consumed this sickening amount of sugar were sprawled across the rest of the compartment, arguing animatedly about the merits of different Quidditch teams. James had rather gallantly refused his friends' invitation to join them in their compartment, choosing instead to stay with his "brother and Rosie." James was quickly graduating from Rose's most feared cousin to her favorite. All of her nervousness gone, Rose was able to appreciate the largest gathering of wizards she had seen in all of her young life. She was also quite aware that the nervousness would return as soon as they reached Hogwarts, which, judging by how dark it was rapidly becoming was quite soon. She leaned her forehead against the window and closed her eyes, knowing that it would be the last time in a long time that she and her two cousins would be alone together. She was startled out of her reverie by a rather uncomfortable halt.

"We're here," grinned James, helping Rose to her feet. "Don't worry about your trunks. I'll see you at the Gryffindor table," he called to Rose and Albus as he boarded a horseless carriage and they walked towards a prim but comforting voice. Holding hands out of terror, the two stepped forwards to meet their fate.

Said fate happened to be a woman in her mid-fifties holding a lantern and gesturing for the first-years to board a fleet of small sailboats with no sails. "Four to a boat," called the woman, and Albus and Rose joined a girl with a black ponytail and a chap with glasses in one. The boat, much to Rose's chagrin, left the shore as soon as the four had set foot in it, without regard to how they were positioned. Luckily, Al was either feeling very forgiving or very nervous and did not mention her fall into his lap to James. Joining the nine other boats following the woman, they crossed the dark, cold-looking lake and passed through a curtain of ivy on the other side. Here the boat courteously waited for all four passengers to remove themselves from the boat before leaving them at the foot of a stone staircase. Here an older woman met them, looking rather stern, but appropriately kind. She smiled at Al and Rose, who smiled back. Leading them to the top of the stairs, she entered, leaving the forty eleven-year-olds huddling in a nervous clump outside the door.

A blond head pushed its way to Rose and Albus and stood before them, revealing its owner to be none other than Scorpius Malfoy. "Potter," said he, resting his uncomfortable gaze on Albus before turning to a frightened Rose. "Weasley." He said it as if it were a curse, an insult, something that he would find under his shoe. He said her last name the way Rose would pronounce the word "spider," and this realization filled her with indignant family pride. Her freckled cheeks flushing, Rose returned Malfoy's cool glare but said nothing, aware that if she did, her fear would give her away. Luckily Professor McGonagall returned at that point and ushered them into the bright Great Hall.

Walking with her head held high, Rose made it a point not to gawk at the ceiling and enjoyed the feel of her brand-new robes swishing about her ankles. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted James' encouraging smile and her proud expression became an un-self-conscious grin and she proceeded towards the staff table and the stool, upon which sat the famous sorting hat. Knowing she would have to wait until last, Rose took the opportunity to look around the Great Hall. Four long tables stretched across the room, each capable of holding seventy students. She quickly broke from her contemplation when she heard a familiar name called – "Potter, Albus Severus!" The Hall quieted as Al made his way forward and the Sorting Hat was placed on his head. However, it was not long before it shouted "Gryffindor!" and Al bounded down to join his brother, who enthusiastically clapped him on the back. Rose began going through lists again.

"Weasley, Rose!" called the professor after what seemed like a lifetime, in which she had covered the contents of her trunk and her entire extended family. Carefully, she walked forward, the last of the first years to be sorted. The hat settled comfortably onto her head, but in almost no time, it shouted "Gryffindor!" and she stepped down to an enthusiastically applauding table and joined her cousins.

Roughly an hour and a half later, after she had consumed her body weight in pumpkin juice, steak-and-kidney pie, and treacle tart, she and the nine other first-years followed the nice prefect that had helped her with her trunk up to Gryffindor tower, where the Fat Lady confronted them. Turning to the crowd of eleven-year-olds, the prefect informed them of the password (_caput draconis_) and ushered them into the Common Room. In the Common Room, approximately sixty other students socialized and caught up with each other before the roaring fire. At this point, the friendly prefect left the five girls in the care of another friendly prefect, this time female, to accompany them to their dormitory, at the very top of Gryffindor Tower.

Looking around the room, where her trunk had already been placed at the foot of a four-poster bed, Rose wanted to cry. Yes, her bed had red velvet curtains that she could close as she slept, but it did not have the coverlet that Grandma Molly had made for her tenth birthday. Yes, it was between two high, narrow windows that looked out across the Hogwarts grounds, but the windows were not edged with blue gingham curtains or survey her mother's rose garden. Sighing, Rose placed a framed photograph of her family and her well-worn copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard on her bedside table, and turned to meet her roommates.

Rose's list that night was of her roommates. Mary Bradley slept in the bed to the left of hers, and had silver braces on her teeth. Both of her parents went to Hogwarts before her, and much to Rose's irritation, laughed loudly and often. Violet Finnigan possessed wide blue eyes and a shy smile, and whose first words to Rose were "my mum and dad went to school with your mum and dad!" Rose had smiled politely and nodded. Melanie Harkiss, like Rose, possessed a great deal of freckles scattered across her face and, unlike Rose, long blonde hair. Annie Thomas, a petite black girl, was Rose's last roommate. She didn't particularly like any of them, but then again, she had only met them hours ago and they were all tired and nervous. Excited for the next morning, Rose fell asleep almost immediately and did not dream.


	2. Chapter 2

**Again, I do not own anything. JK Rowling does.**

The next morning, Rose awoke at seven with her roommates and made her way to the bathroom for her daily shower

The next morning, Rose awoke at seven with her roommates and made her way to the bathroom for her daily shower. Melanie endeared herself to Rose immediately for offering to French braid her unruly curls. Rose accepted. Dressed in her second set of black robes and jamming her hat on her head, Rose sat to pull on a pair of knee socks and her beloved ballet flats. Grabbing her brand-new wand (willow, dragon heartstring, ten and a half inches) and tucking her locket beneath her robes, Rose followed her roommates out of their dormitory to the Great Hall, where she would eat breakfast and receive her schedule.

"Morning, sunshine," greeted James as Rose slipped into the seat beside him and poured herself a goblet of pumpkin juice. "Morning," Rose replied, gifting him with one of her rare smiles and reaching unsuccessfully for the porridge. James, noticing this dilemma, passed her the porridge and the butter, and, knowing his young cousin's specific preference, the salt. "Thanks," said Rose, her mouth full. Moments later, a rushed-looking Al joined the two and began cramming kippers and toast at record speed into his mouth. Rose looked to her left and realized that James was doing the same, sighed, and took a sip of pumpkin juice.

Halfway through breakfast, owls began to fly through the great hall, dropping off messages and the Daily Prophet. "Mum wrote already?!" cried Albus through a bite of toast, looking at the envelope before him. "Yep," commented his older brother cheerfully, and spread open his copy of the Daily Prophet, obviously in his own world of newspaper and food. Rose's mum had written too, a short note about missing her only daughter and a request to write back. Just seeing Hermione's signature made Rose's eyes fill, but she quickly blinked the tears away and opened the Daily Prophet to read Aunt Ginny's column. Prefects edged down the tables, passing out timetables to the students. James leaned over to inspect Rose's.

"Charms with Hufflepuff, first thing Monday," he read slowly. "Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws, then lunch, then History of Magic with Hufflepuff again, and Potions with the Slytherins. Ooh, that's rough. Tuesday…flying lessons for all first years – that's great – Defense with the Slytherins, lunch, Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherins again, and then Herbology with Hufflepuff. Wednesday you've got Defense first, Transfiguration, lunch, Charms, and History of Magic. And…Astronomy Wednesday night with Ravenclaw. Thursday…Potions first, Herbology, lunch, Care of Magical Creatures, and History of Magic. Friday…let's see, you've got Transfiguration, then Defense, then lunch and Charms, then Potions." He slapped Rose on the back. "Not a bad schedule, Rosie!" Rose grinned at this odd praise or congratulations, and excused herself to get her books.

"_Caput draconis_," she proudly informed the Fat Lady, and raced up to her dormitory to retrieve her belongings. Classes would start at nine o'clock today, thirty minutes from now, and Rose wanted to be able to find her way to the Charms classroom without getting lost. Into her brand-new red leather satchel went _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One_, _A Beginners Guide to Transfiguration_, _A History of Magic_, _Magical Drafts and Potions_, _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_, four black leather-bound notebooks, her pheasant-feather quill (a gift from her mother) and a bottle of scarlet ink. That afternoon, she decided, she would ask a house elf to take her cauldron to a cubby in the Potions classroom so she could use it in class. Quickly glancing at herself in the mirror, she (and it) deemed her acceptable, and she left the dormitory just as her roommates were coming up to retrieve their belongings. She shared a smile with Melanie, and hurried down to the Common Room, and, from there, to the Charms classroom.

The second bell rang, and twenty students quieted. Rose was already quiet, her bag leaning up against her leg, hands folded on the desk. She shared her desk with Melanie, Al having come in late. Only Monday, and she had already learned ten new names! Professor Flitwick clasped his hands together and peered out at the twenty first-years. "This is not going to be a practical class period today," he announced to his eager students. "Instead, I would like you to write something about yourself and turn it in. Once you have finished, please read Chapter One of your textbook and finish it for homework." Rustling crossed the room as students were passed pieces of parchment and extracted quills and ink from their bags. Rose took hers and dipped her quill, wondering what to write.

_Rose Weasley_, she wrote.

_Age Eleven_

_A First-Year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Member of Gryffindor House_. Pausing, Rose, wondered what to write next. Seized by inspiration, she put quill to parchment once again.

_First Child and Only Daughter of Ron and Hermione Weasley_

_Older Sister to Hugo Weasley, Age Ten_

_Wand: Willow and Dragon Heartstring, Swishy, Ten and One-Half Inches_

_Enjoys Reading_

_Favorite Foods: Pumpkin Pasties, Steak-and-Kidney Pie, and Treacle Tart_. Satisfied with her list, Rose stood to hand it in, returned to her seat, and began to read the first chapter of her textbook, making notes in her notebook beside her. She was going to fulfill her father's wish and beat Scorpius in every test. In fact, she was going to beat everybody in every test. And that required work.

Transfiguration passed without any mishaps, Professor McGonagall explaining the expectations of the course and demanding a six-inch parchment on themselves for the next class. Slinging her bag across her body, she hurried to lunch with Al to meet up with James. She didn't know about her cousins, but she was hungry.

Eating her way through a plateful of stew, Rose accidentally locked eyes with one Scorpius Malfoy. Seated at the Slytherin table, his piercing grey eyes fixed on her chocolate-brown ones contemptuously. Rose edged her way closer to James and grabbed a Cauldron Cake, and as soon as she was finished, excused herself to get to History of Magic, which she soon found was rather dull, although the subject was fascinating.

She and Al raced together from the History of Magic classroom to the dungeon, where the Potions classroom was. Rose, who felt cold more acutely than most people, wished she had brought her cloak to combat the damp she felt below the castle. Terrified, she cautiously entered the Potions classroom and came upon a fascinating sight. Four tables, each to seat five, sat before five bubbling cauldrons. The Potions master, a tall, severe-looking man, stood before them, waiting for his first-year class. Rose hurriedly took a seat at the front left-hand table, trying to avoid her professor's stare.

The rest of the class filed in after her, Melanie taking a seat next to Rose, and Al the seat beyond. Scorpius Malfoy came in second-to-last, and sat directly behind Rose. She tried to ignore it, but the entire class period could feel those grey eyes boring into the back of her head. In Potions, she learned that Professor Vander favored Slytherin students, as he was also the Head of Slytherin House, that to excel in Potions one must be very diligent and follow instructions exactly, and that they would be required to write many essays on the properties of different potions ingredients. She also leaned that Malfoy didn't look away from the back of her French-braided head for the entire class period.

Exhausted after her first day at school, Rose left Potions as soon as the bell rang, flying from the room and up the stairs until she reached her Common Room. Once there, she pulled her Charms notebook and textbook from her bag and set about reading not only the rest of chapter one, but chapter two as well. Relieved to be upstairs again, before a roaring fire, with a book she hadn't read before in front of her, Rose was in her element, taking notes and committing them to memory. About five minutes after Rose had arrived, so did the rest of Gryffindor House, filling the Common Room with warmth and noise. The kindly male prefect, whose name was Oliver, conjured a goblet of pumpkin juice and a plate of Cauldron Cakes for her to snack on while she studied. Thanking him, she finished her Charms work and moved on to her six-inch Transfiguration assignment. By four o'clock, Rose had finished her homework for all four classes, and had begun a long letter home to her family. Wiping the occasional tear from her eye, she made her way to the Owlery and selected a school-owned barn owl. "Number fourteen Oak Lane, Godric's Hollow, please," she told the owl as she tied the letter to its leg. Hooting comfortingly, it flew from the tower and away from Hogwarts. Turning from the window, Rose ran headlong into someone, stumbled backwards, and almost fell on the floor. "Sorry," she muttered, looking at the floor and skirting the feet she saw. She didn't want to know who it was – hopefully a kindly prefect, not one of her cousins. But when the person spoke it was much worse than James or Albus.

"So clumsy, Weasley?" questioned the icy voice that belonged to a person Rose wished did not exist.

"Malfoy," she said, quelling her fear with lists of information. "Excuse me." A hand grasped her upper arm in a vice-like grip so strong she was sure that it would leave a bruise. Her fears returned, so acute that she was sure she was shaking in his grip. They were accompanied by absolute humiliation – Malfoy not only had her in a compromising position but also knew that she was scared of him. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to be strong and thought a quick prayer. Please, God, she thought, save me. And help did come, but not in the form of divine intervention, but rather in the form of one James Sirius Potter.

"Oy!" cried the third-year, taking the steps two at a time. "You – the first year! Get your hands off of her, you great brute!" Malfoy turned his penetrating gaze on James, whose only response was an antagonistic stare. "Malfoy – I should have known. Now get off of her now – or suffer the consequences." Rather than be an idiot and face a third-year with his wand drawn, Malfoy released Rose with a disgusted expression and descended the stairs. James waited until he was out of site before rushing to his little cousin. "Are you alright?" he demanded, frantically. "Did he hurt you or touch you inappropriately in any way? Nothing hurts?" Assuring her cousin that she was, in fact, quite alright, Rose willed her panicking heart to slow down and joined her cousin on his journey to the Great Hall in search of dinner.

Loading his cousin's plate with pork chops and Yorkshire pudding and pouring her a goblet of pumpkin juice, James looked anxiously at his younger cousin. She had inherited all the good Weasley and Granger attributes, the only negative one being the freckles that dusted her nose and cheeks. No wonder that pig Malfoy had wanted to pull one on her. For maybe the fifth time, he thanked his lucky stars that he had found her when he did. For the eightieth time, he vowed to kill Malfoy if he ever pulled a stunt like that again. How dare that…boy go near his cousin! How dare a Malfoy ever attempt to approach someone like Rose! How dare a Slytherin attack a Gryffindor! That act violated so many of James' mental barriers that he could hardly stand it, and instead went about devising as many ways as possible to kill Malfoy while inflicting great bodily harm.


End file.
